


Almost Spring

by thelonebamf



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The passing of the seasons does more than simply change the landscape.</p>
<p>Written for the "Spinning Tales" gift exchange on the theme of "Winter"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Spring

Her pulse no longer quickened when he entered the room. 

She found that she'd stopped stiffening up when she heard him coming, and no longer held her breath for the brief moment before he chose to address her. The changes, subtle as they were had crept upon her just as deftly as the season's first snowfall, quietly and unexpected. These days a smile crossed her face when he returned from his dealings, and while she still hurried to complete the tasks he gave her, she showed no trace of fear. It seemed that becoming the Dark One's maidservant was not to be the tragic sacrifice Belle had imagined.

So, when Rumplestiltskin stormed into the upstairs study where she had been reading, Belle simply looked up from her book and gave him a quizzical look. His vitriol, she had learned, was never reserved for her. 

"I tire of these walls," he muttered. "Stone and mortar, marble and silks. It grows tedious."

Belle tilted her head slightly; with a simple snap of his fingers Rumplestiltskin could whisk himself off to any number of far off lands. In an instant he could visit untamed wilds and underwater kingdoms. Yet he was also a proud man, and unlikely to reveal his true wishes in plain words.

"Perhaps a walk?" she suggested. "The snow will have transformed the woods by now," she added. "It might be just the sort of refreshment you desire."

"Ah yes, leave my castle unattended so my clever servant might get up to no good," he retorted, a glint in his eye. "I won't be having any of that." He walked to one of the windows, crossing his arms as he surveyed the frost covered landscape. "Well, there's nothing for it," he sighed. "You'll just have to come with me."

"I shall get my cloak," Belle replied, bowing her head so as not to reveal her grin.  
-  
Though the early snow remained untouched by man, it had caught the creatures of the woods by surprise and a keen eye could detect the telltale signs of activity as they hurried to prepare for the long winter ahead. As the two walked along one of the many paths that snaked through the woods, Belle delighted in silently catalouging the tracks she found in the snow. In one spot, the pointed shapes and long gait of a deer's movements could be seen. Closer to the brush, the distinct pattern of a rabbit's tracks littered the ground. Further from the castle, there was evidence of a wolf pack which gave her pause, but a quick glance to the man at her side provided a strange sense of reassurance that she had nothing to fear. 

"Done examining the underbrush, dearie?" The words were sharp in the cold air, but something about their tone hinted at genuine curiosity rather than boredom.

"Just about," Belle responded as she rose from her crouched position in the snow. "You can't mean to tell me you've never taken an interest in the wildlife on your own estate," she inquired. She pulled the folds of her cloak around her, still surveying the area. 

"Can't say that I have," quipped her master. "It's not the dealings of birds and beasts that interest me," he added. "They haven't got much I want, nor I they." He grew quiet and began surveying his surroundings in earnest for the first time since they'd stepped outside. 

"I wouldn't be so sure." A few footfalls in the snow and Belle closed the space between them, and stood quietly at his side for a moment before speaking again. "After all, every creature, no matter how small, carries a seed of wisdom within them. There's something to be learned from everything."

Without turning, the Dark One glanced sideways at his companion letting his eyes rest on her features for a brief moment. His lips parted as he prepared to speak but before the words had left his mouth, Belle had darted away again, now captivated by something else on the ground.

"More tracks?" he inquired, burying his annoyance as he moved to follow her.

"No, something else," she called, crouched once again in the snow.

Rumplestiltskin stood a few feet away and cast a bemused look at what had so captivated the young woman. It was just a small, black bird, unremarkable in every way that he could see. Belle must have sensed his confusion as she explained, "It's dancing."

Sure enough, the bird was hopping about in a most peculiar manner. Its entire body shook from side to side as it jumped back and forth at the base of a shrub. Tiny flurries of snow were lifted into the air as its tail brushed the ground. Occasionally a tiny chirp came from its beak, but at no point did it stop its strange capering about.

"He reminds me of someone," Belle commented with a grin.

"Does he now?" Rumplestiltskin replied. "Strange chap."

"Why do you suppose he's dancing like that?" 

"I imagine he's just made a fine deal," he answered her, a glint in his eye. "No doubt he's proud of himself, bursting to the brim with secrets and mischief." His nimble fingers flourished briefly in the frozen air.

Belle rose and shook the snow from herself with a smile. "I thought you said animals didn't make deals."

"Well not with me, at any rate," was the response. "Far too smart for that."

Belle laughed. Though Rumplestiltskin was in the habit of making jokes, it wasn't often that others shared his sense of humor and he caught himself caught off-guard at her outburst. "Perhaps we should return to the castle," he said quietly. 

\--

Once they'd returned, Belle had barely removed her cloak before darting straight for the study. Likewise, Rumplestiltskin said little before retiring to his wheel. Tonight he found the straw snapping in his hands, the fibers warping around his shaking fingers. After several failed attempts, he contented himself with gently rocking the wheel as he listened to the fire. His quiet contemplation was interrupted, however when Belle reappeared, book in hand, and took a seat near him on the floor.

"I've discovered some of our friend's secrets," she announced, running a hand warmly over the open page. 

"Did you now?" Rumplestiltskin's words were quiet, but he leaned towards the girl and looked down at the tome she had dragged with her. Though its pages were covered in a language not native to any nearby lands, Belle had no trouble deciphering their meaning. Her eyes widened as she ran her fingers over the yellowed paper, as though the contact would somehow yield more information.

"He's a wagtail," she responded, "aptly named at that." She shook slightly in her seat, mimicking the bird’s dance with a smile. "And he's quite a fascinating little bird. It says here that in the eastern lands, he's regarded quite highly as a servant to their creator deity. The god needed someone to create land from the ocean," she continued, "and chose a single wagtail. He used his tail to cast aside the ocean waves and his feet to pound down the sand until land was created. Countless islands created through the perseverance of such a small creature." Belle rested her head in one hand with a wistful smile, images of the mysterious east playing across her mind. Her eyes closed briefly as she imagined the spray of foreign oceans upon her face and the scent of unknown lands beneath her feet. Slow, deep breaths came from her parted lips as she leaned forward, lost within her thoughts

"Is that all it says?"

Belle's eyes snapped open, her back straightened, and she returned to the pages of her book. "Mostly," she answered quickly, her cheeks reddening. "The figure of the wagtail persists in the mythology as an icon of devotion and what can be accomplished though dedication, despite one's weaknesses."

"And what weaknesses might those be?"

"Well, according to most versions of the tale, the wagtail was lame."

The creaking of the wheel came to an abrupt stop and the room was silent for a few seconds. Belle's eyes rose quickly from her book and shifted to Rumplestilskin's motionless hand, still hovering a few centimeters from its resting place. His expression was hidden behind lank strands of hair, but before she could speak he all at once resumed his activity. 

"What a peculiar tale," he said. "But I know a far better one." 

All at once he began reciting an epic of sea creatures, witches and far off lands. He lingered a few seconds longer than strictly necessary on the grisly fate of the heinous pirate villain, but Belle listened rapt with attention as he carried on, his arms waving in the air as he spun the story as deftly as any thread. Soon enough, the book had fallen to the floor and the memory of the funny little bird melted away.  
\--

His pulse no longer quickened when she entered the room. 

He found his mouth was no longer dry when he addressed her; his heartbeat no longer thundered in his ears. His defenses, ancient and impenetrable had begun to wane with the last patches of frost on the ground. These days, he no longer rehearsed the witticisms and banter that had once made up so much of the discourse they shared. Though still hiding much, he was now just as likely to answer her questions directly as he was to dismiss them with a silly giggle and wave of his hands. It seemed that taking the beauty into his castle had not been the grave miscalculation he'd once thought.

So, when Belle interrupted his spinning and asked him to take a walk with her, he said nothing at all, but stood and took up his coat.

Though the chill had been all but banished from the air, small traces of winter's reign remained. The ground was soft beneath their feet and scant patches of grass fought to reveal themselves from beneath the remaining snow. The pair wordlessly made their way through the woods with no real destination in mind. Yet soon enough, their path took them to a familiar location, and they were greeted by an old friend.

"He's still here!" Belle exclaimed, falling at once to her knees on the ground beside the place where the little bird danced.   
"That pitiful creature?" Rumplestiltskin asked, craning his neck to examine the scene. "Hasn't he anything better to do than frolic about in the same spot day after day?"  
"Apparently not." Belle reached into the folds of her dress and produced a small piece of bread which she broke up and sprinkled on the ground. The wagtail chirped happily, but disappeared into the brush. Confusion crossed Belle's face, but before she could rise, the bird returned, this time with his mate. The pair consumed Belle's offering within moments before taking off into the sky.

A warmth rose to Belle's cheeks and a smile grew across her face. "Of course," she said with a slight laugh, rising to meet Rumplestiltskin who still bore a look of confusion. "He wasn't dancing for fun- those two were nesting! He was protecting her!"

"By dancing around like a fool?" He asked in disbelief.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Belle responded. She began to head back down the path and motioned for him to follow her. "I just think, he was doing everything he could to protect something precious."

"And his lady?" Mock annoyance danced in Rumplestiltskin's eyes. "Sitting comfortably back in the warm nest?"

Belle chuckled softly. "I'm sure she missed him dearly, but she understood why he had to do it." She paused to stare up into the sky and allowed a deep breath to escape from her lips. "And now..."

"And now?"

She looked back to him, still smiling. "And now that the snow has melted, they can be together." 

The words lingered in the air, and Rumplestiltskin froze in place as though moving would somehow erase them. After a moment, it was Belle who broke the silence.

"We should return," she said. "There's much to be done in the castle. The rugs, tapestries and curtains could all do with a good cleaning."

Snapping out of his brief daze, Rumplestiltskin followed after her, dismissing the hazy thoughts that had clouded his mind. "Indeed," he agreed. "A change of seasons, a change of linens," he quipped in a singsong voice, now trotting several steps ahead of her.

"It's almost spring."

**Author's Note:**

> ending note: the myth about the wagtail (or "sekirei") comes from the Ainu people of Northern Japan. It's one of my favorite myths, and while I hadn't planned on using it in a story like this, when it came up I was surprised at how much I liked it within the context. The bit about them trying to ward off predators is more recent scientific observation. I learned a lot about birds writing this story...


End file.
